Messenger
by Stars of Artemis
Summary: Though the war is over, the battles have only begun. And for some of them, you need more than just weapons. You need words, heart, and a bit of snap that only a 22 year old kid can deliver. Even if it means overcoming the impossible along the way.
1. All that Glitters Part 1

**A/N; WARNING! THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR DARK OF THE MOON. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN, DON'T WATCH!**

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><p>Bumblebee is officially paranoid now. It was bad after Mission City- <em>worse <em>after Sam had flat lined at Giza- but the scout had gotten over it. He had even found it in himself to leave.

Now?

Sam would be lucky if he ever got a spare moment away from him again. He wasn't really complaining, though. Not after seeing Bee so close to death so many times in the past three days, and Carly, the angel-goddess that she is, completely understands.

But Bumblebee was not here now, only trusting Sam to the classified and battle-worn hands of NEST once he knew Will was going to be there with him, and that Dino (though he was often called Mirage) would be tailing the party at a safe distance.

And for all that it's worth, Sam's actually kind of glad Bee isn't here now. He doesn't want him to see what he's having to deal with.

He's still guilty.

That is what's been on his mind as he barrels down a rough, country road in the middle of nowhere, that's what is weighing on his chest as he sits in the back seat of one of the government's black trucks, driven by someone he doesn't know to someplace he's never been.

They're on their way to the new temporary NEST base just outside of D.C, seeing as the old one was destroyed by Sentinel Prime. Will is in the seat next to him, and he's thankful for that, because he doesn't know who the hell is sitting in the front seat, and he's still jumpy about being in any car other than Bee at the moment, and Bee isn't here.

Hell, he couldn't even get into one of the government's standard SUV's- not after what happened just three days ago. The last time he saw one, they were chasing him down the interstate and he was flying through the air, only to be caught by his guardian at the very last moment- a guardian who is, again, _not here_.

What he _didn't _know was that riding in a large black truck would put Will through hell. He can see it in his friend's eyes, the look on his face, though the soldier tries to hide it.

Ratchet doesn't think they'll be able to bring Ironhide back.

Just the thought of him sends a wave of grief through his chest, and his fist grows a little tighter on the side of the car.

But trusting in Sentinel isn't the mistake that's bothering him the most. It's the fact that no one is blaming _him_.

He remembers when Ironhide got shot through his chest from behind by Sentinel, right after they believed all the danger was over. He remembers the shock, the confusion, the feeling that for just a moment, the entire world was tilted upside down and the overwhelming panic and stone-cold _fear _in his chest as Bumblebee had to duck behind the building and run, as all the Autobots had to run, marked by the one that they believed could save them. Sentinel was on a rampage and tearing up the entire base, and he killed anyone who bothered to engage him, but he had _marked _the Autobots as a threat, and Sam's only thoughts were for the small yellow scout and the dying black warrior.

He remembers how Optimus showed up after all the damage had been done, after Ironhide had been reduced to a mangled pile of rust and metal. The look in his optics was enough to rip a hole in Sam's chest, because he knew it was the same look he had borne after Optimus had fallen in that forest all those years ago. Of total disappointment, dismay, disbelief, and…loss. Because that day, Sam lost his hero, and _that _day, Optimus had lost his- only in a far worse way than Sam had.

He remembers how that woman had pointed at Optimus in full-scale fury and screamed that it was all his fault.

Sam reflects briefly on Ironhide's diminished form again, and thinks that she had no idea in hell what she was talking about. She didn't know that he was blaming him of the death of one of his most beloved friends.

And there Sam was, in the middle of it all, with their planet's two-time savior in despair, and Optimus had been accused of causing it all. And later, after Sam had shown up again, no one had thought to accuse _him _of anything.

He knows why. They had Carly. And he would be damned to hell if he let anything- _ever_- happen to her. And he knows that in the end, no harm came to it. In the end, he never meant to do any damage, and he had been with them in blood and tears all the way.

But he was still guilty.

He still wore that watch, he still made a deal with the devil to let an angel live. After everything that had happened, after all the battles they had fought together, after Optimus had died for him, he still stood there and asked him that damned question.

_How to you intend to fight back?_

He still nearly sent them all to hell. No harm did come of it- not on his part- in the end, but the thought of what _if _is haunting him more than anything.

What if Optimus had told Sam about their plan, that they had hidden in the booster rockets, and that they were never leaving Earth to begin with? What if Dylan had figured it out because he, Sam, had told him? Sam had condemned them the moment he asked that question. He had basically thrown them on the tight rope and closed his eyes and waited for them to fall. But still, Carly…

_You're the only human Optimus Prime trusts. _

That was why they had used him. Because he was close to the Autobots, because he was Optimus Prime's friend. Because the great Autobot Commander, one of the fiercest warriors in the universe, had died a brutal death to protect him from harm. Because out of all the humans on Earth, he trusted _him_.

_You will always be my friend, Sam._

To hear that coming from him, after he had just betrayed him…it nearly sent Sam to his knees. And it did, once they were gone. They were the biggest part of his life he'd ever had, and to watch them leave…then to watch them _die_…

He didn't know if he would ever stop looking at the sky and thanking whatever God was watching over both their races that they had planned that all along. But the fact that he still did it, that he would have thrown them all to the Pit will stick with him. He knows he's proved himself three times over, knows that he would have very easily died for any of them out there in Chicago. And he almost did- when Sentinel nearly shot Bee, if Will hadn't been holding him back, when he jumped on Starscream's face, when he nearly burst out of that car when they had a laser cannon jammed up against Bee's helm.

He has died for them. For Optimus, in Giza- and if it meant saving just one of them, whose lives were so much more important than his, he knows he would do it all over again. If he could have died to save Ironhide, he's sure he would have done that too.

And looking at Lennox now, he knows he feels the same.

"I'm sorry." he murmurs, his voice lost to the drivers up front over the sound of the engine.

Will starts, blinking hard, but doesn't look at him. He simply locks his jaw and nods, staring out the window again.

"I should have gone in a damn SUV." Sam mutters, looking around the interior of the truck. "If I had known they would bring a truck-"

"Sam, it's not your fault." Will says quietly, and looks at him for the first time. "None of this was. And Ironhide…" he shakes his head. "He went down protecting us. That's what he would have wanted."

Sam thinks about what it would be like to loose Bumblebee. He's come way too close to that in the past few days, and shudders. "I know." he says, swallowing thickly. "But-"

"It wasn't your fault." repeats Will, and looks him dead in the eye. "The only thing I blame is that damn Sentinel, and seeing as he doesn't have a head anymore, I don't have anyone to blame. I'd be lying if I said I won't miss him like hell, but…" he looks out the window again. "It's over. That's all that matters. I get to be with Sara and Annabelle again. Earth is safe." He looks back again. "That's what he would've wanted."

Sam nods, though he knows that it'll take Will a while to get over it. It'll take a while for all of them to get over it.

"What do you look so…down about?" Will wonders suddenly, obviously trying to phrase the expression on his face. He doesn't recognize it for what it is. Guilt.

Sam jerks up, and flinches, knowing that his feelings must be written all over his face. And that he is such a crappy liar, it will be impossible to tell Will differently.

"Just…thinking." he says lamely, knowing that, at least, is true.

Will doesn't say anything for a while. He just looks at him. His eyes are penetrating, eyes that have seen more Decepticons fall than even Sam himself, and Sam carefully avoids his gaze.

"Okay." Will whispers finally. He clasps the boy roughly on the shoulder, causing Sam to jerk forward a little, and looks back out the window.

Sam deflates a little bit in relief. Lennox is one of those easy people to talk to- never pries, listens till the end, and never tells, but will call you an idiot if you really need it.

But he's not the person Sam wants to talk to, not just yet.

The trees flash by, and suddenly the sunlight streams down all around them, unblocked and unhindered by the trees before it was so desperately trying to stream through. There's a fence in front of them, and Sam now knows from experience of trying to ram the NEST gate that there's more security around here than just the intimidating men wielding heavy rifles and the sign that says TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. The truck briefly stops, and they get waved through almost immediately. Sam notices that the guards that held him up before are gone.

He thinks of Wheelie's remark, wondering if they like their new jobs at the bank, and almost smiles.

There is a massive warehouse in the center of the field, surrounded by a large ring of concrete and asphalt that is being used as parking space. There are a few army vehicles and a couple of tanks, along with several other government-issue cars scattered around. A few other, smaller buildings gleam in the background. Men in uniforms are swarming the place.

"Welcome to your temporary home away from home." says Will, as they slide out of the car. Sam glances around at it all.

"Very…homey."

A ghost of a smile flashes across Will's face. He hits his arm lightly. "Let's go, Sam. Bee's been having a minor panic attack since you've been separated. We'd all like to put his mind to rest."

Sam looks up, in the shadow of the giant building, and takes a deep breath. "Yeah." he manages, and follows Will into the temporary NEST headquarters.

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><p><strong>P.S AN; whoo! that was hard to write. I don't normally do down stuff, and I'll make it lighter in the future, cross my heart ;) Part two will be up as soon as i figure out what the heck I'm doing, but don't worry, it should be here soon, I hope. I have absolutly no control where these things go. My charectors and overactive mind highjack my plots all the time. Enjoy!**


	2. All that Glitters Part 2

The yellow Camaro came zipping out of the open hangar door before they even approached it. In a bright flash of yellow and silver, Bumblebee has transformed, and is crouching down, hovering a bit.

Sam smiles a bit in spite of himself. "Hey, Bee."

"What I tell you?" Will yells over his shoulder, still heading toward the hangar. "Panic attack."

"You alright, son?" drawls some cowboy or another.

"I'm fine, Bee. Unless you want to yell at the drivers for hitting a pothole in the road, don't sic Ratchet on me yet." Sam starts to walk around the yellow scout and follow Will's footsteps.

Bumblebee chirps as he walks past and nudges him gently with a finger.

"No gates- all ran down!"

"Nope. No gate ramming. Now get your aft inside before Optimus yells at both of us." Bee chirps again and tilts his head, seeming either amused or insulted. "Let's go." Sam calls back, beckoning to his guardian hurriedly. He's sick of being left out of everything, and he's not about to be late for his first official NEST meeting ever just because him and Bee have some catching up to do. There's plenty of paved roads and joyriding for that later.

No one he walks past is really surprised to see him there once he gets inside. He knows they shouldn't be- not after he nearly broke down the NEST gate before and Bumblebee came charging out to level his cannon at anyone who got too near him, not after he fought in Chicago with the few soldiers that are left. He may only be the messenger, but he's still one of them, and he's proved that three times over.

Also, after watching that shuttle get blown up and thinking that every single one of his alien robot warrior friends had been blow to hell, he's not ready to get out of a five mile radius of them, not yet.

Carly understands. She's spending the weekend with her dad, and then she's coming here with him, because he's not ready to be too far from her either.

Also, he knows the 'in between' job is over now. This is where he belongs. This is where he's always belonged.

He walks further into the hangar, and glances around, impressed. The space is big- it _is _meant to hold several alien robots, after all. Not just one, but two balconies wrap around the walls where the second and third floor should be, and there's a massive stand so that the puny humans can see eye-to-optic with the Autobots. Kind of. Not to mention way too many computers and classified-thingies to count.

A big group is standing around the base of the stand. Ratchet's towering form sticks out like a sky scrapper among the humans, while Sideswipe is keeping a lower profile behind the stand, and the Wreckers are all parked around in alt-mode. He spots Lennox and Epps at the back, discreetly muttering to each other without breaking eye contact with Mrs. Mearing, and the uniforms of both officials and NEST soldiers alike. Simmons is also there, parked on the stand behind Charlotte Mearing, he notices with some amusement. He quickly walks up to the back of the group, hoping to go unnoticed by any of the higher-ups or the previously-deemed Psycho Lady.

"Samuel." rumbles Ratchet.

Epic. _Fail_.

"Ah, Mr. Witwicky." says Charlotte Mearing, even as he winces. He swallows and looks up, eyes bright. "Glad you could finally join us." she snips.

"Sorry." He sounds like a damn high school freshman late to his first day of class. It definitely feels like it.

She simply sighs, nods, light reflecting oddly off her glasses, and goes back to addressing the entire NEST company.

There's a thinner line between them now. She had the balls to stand in Sentinel's face and yell at him right as he was blowing up the base, in his mind, and he has saved the world- again. _Again _again. Usually that would be enough to win anyone's respect for a lifetime, but he was the one who back talked her to her face the first night he met her after ramming her security gate down.

Again; there's a _thinner _line between them now.

He glances sheepishly up at Bee, who just shrugs and shifts his weight to his other foot, putting his hands on his hips.

Sam tries to pay attention to the rest of the meeting.

It was all stuff he had heard before; just like after Mission City and Giza, but different. Damages taken, blah blah blah. Damages inflicted, blah blah blah. The easiest part of all is that in this meeting, they don't have to try to introduce the general public to the Autobots, thank God. That was the hardest thing imaginable. And even better, now that the world has seen what the world would become without them, there seems to be a lot more positive reception for the time being. He's just glad that there isn't any talk of sending them off world again, and that they're all here alive to hear it.

Well, not all of them.

He thinks of Ironhide again and flinches inside. It's all the worse when he realizes that this is absolutely _nothing _compared to how the Autobots must be feeling. He glances up then, at Bee, then Ratchet, and over at Sideswipe. The silver warrior is unreadable as ever, even more so because Sam doesn't know him that well. But the other two he's known- and known well- for six years, and he can tell just by looking at their faces that something is wrong. Too blank. Like staring at a cement wall. Their faces were never like that- not even when they first landed.

Sorrow is sorrow, no matter the difference in species; it is written in the same language. It is felt.

Sam looks down again, and then sighs through his nose and rocks back on his heels. They got over Jazz, though they still miss him; he knows they'll get over this. It will just take time. And no matter how much they miss Ironhide, he knows they are so lucky.

Brains is gone, too. And Wheeljack. But nearly all the Wreckers survived, Optimus survived, albeit barely, and so did Ratchet and Bumblebee and Sideswipe and Mirage, and Megatron is _dead _(hopefully for good this time) and Optimus himself said it, they're never leaving Earth again. Even this meeting is going pretty good, as much as he can tell. What's not to be thankful for?

"…And as for punishment for breaking the NEST code-"

_What?_

"-And wishes of the people of Earth that the Autobots leave-"

"Punishment?" Sam bursts out, outraged. "What the hell are you going to punish them for, saving the planet?"

"Took the words right out of the mouth." growls Will, surprising him a bit.

"Mine too." Epps mutters back to him.

"The Autobots did _nothing _wrong! It's only thanks to them that we're all standing here talking about this and not in one of Megatron's _slave _camps."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Witwicky," she replies, back going stiff, "I have no control over what the president or the Cabinet order around here. Punishing treason is their jurisdiction, not mine."

"I can't believe the president ordered this." Sam says in furious disbelief. "I had dinner with him- the guy _supports _the Autobots, he's not stupid enough to punish them for doing something right."

"The president cannot overrule the entire Cabinet." Charlotte Mearing says loudly, cutting across the rest of his tirade. "Or the demands of Congress for that matter. If you want to take it up with the entire government of the Untied States of America, be my guest, Mr. Witwicky, but I assure you, you won't get any farther than I did."

It suddenly dawns on him that, one, Optimus isn't at this meeting and two, Charlotte Mearing may be a valuable ally. At first he thought they had a second Galloway on their hands; prejudiced, ignorant, and bossy. But this woman was no coward, and she even admitted to telling the government to shove it over this punishment issue with the Autobots. She may have changed a bit. And he sure as hell needs her on his side if one, he wants to live long enough to get a real job here and two, actually having some friends in government positions isn't a bad thing.

"We'll see." he finally says, and shoves his faith into the fact that the Autobots did nothing wrong, and that he is still living and breathing because of it. His mind is already working out what he'll say when he does talk to whoever is in charge; people like that have a strange way of finding him easily since this last international alien incident. The president will want to talk to him. He gave him a medal, for Christ's sake. Then he'll think about taking on the Congress or whoever the hell is jumping down their throats this time.

She blinks, looking a bit stonewalled, and Bumblebee looks down at him, chirping in concern. He doesn't break eye contact with her until she straightens her glasses and carries on with the rest of her meeting, this time concerning the missing Decepticons.

When they finally break, Will rounds on him immediately, Epps at his side. "Are you insane?" he hisses, keeping his voice down so that the passing officers won't hear.

Sam rolls his eyes. "By now, I'd be surprised if I wasn't."

"_Super freak, super freak!_ Listen to the soldier." Bumblebee calls down in his voices of and rock stars.

"He's damn right." Epps says, pointing up at Bee.

"Look man," Will tells him, leaning a bit closer, "I know we didn't exactly cover the whole psychiatric PTS thing with you after Mission City, or even Giza, but now might be some serious time to consider some therapy-"

"Or a vacation." suggests Epps.

"-or retiring-"

"-going AWOL-"

"-Just disappear-"

"-_sector seven _disappear-"

"Do you trust me?" Sam asks suddenly, raising his eyebrows.

Silence. Epps and Will glance at each other.

"Do you trust me?" Sam repeats. He steps forward and points at Will. "You flew all the way to Giza and pushed Galloway out of a plane because you believed I could do the impossible." He looks at Epps. "You got all your NEST buddies and went all the way to ground zero because I said we could do it." he looks between both of them. "I'm going to take that as yes."

"Sam-" begins Will, looking worried.

"I've never gotten you guys into anything that hasn't got us back in one piece." Sam says, feeling a bit suicidal for interrupting the seasoned major. "I'm not saying I'm perfect-" he thinks with a flash of the watch glinting off his wrist and swallows thickly, feeling like he's fallen through the floor, "-Far, far from it." He looks determinedly into both of their eyes. "But I'm not just going to sit back and let them try to steamroll the Autobots." A few seconds silence stretches out at Epps glances at Will, who has his ice-blue eyes trained on Sam. "And I know you guys won't let that happen either. Are you with me?"

Will sighs heavily, venting air out his nose, and his square jaw works as he rocks back on his heels, looking off to the side. Epps crosses his arms and fingers his jacket silently.

Will shakes his head, coming back to the present and looks at him again. "You're a wild card, kid, I'll give you that." he says suddenly, and a smirk quirks up at the corner of his mouth. "You always have been."

Sam blinks, suddenly a bit nervous. "Not sure what you mean, but…thanks."

Epps grins. "He means you never stop surprising us. I went through hell with you in Chicago, man, and I'm pretty sure that this can't be that much worse. I'm with you all the way."

"Me too." Will tells him.

Sam sighs, feeling like a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders. One of them, anyways. "Thanks, guys."

"Just don't go biting off more than you can chew." Will warns, as him and his best friend begin to move aside.

Sam grins. "Do I ever?"

They both laugh at that, and Epps pats him on the shoulder as they walk past with a muttered "You're crazy man."

Panic suddenly seized Sam's chest as he realized he forgot to ask something. "Hey Will!" he calls.

The black-haired warrior turns his way. "Do you know where I can find Optimus?"

Will thinks and shrugs. "Ask the chief." he says, ducking his head a bit as he points up at Ratchet.

Sam turns and spots the medic conferring with Simmons up on the stand. Sam starts making his way over there. "I'll see you in a minute, Bee." he says, patting the scout's leg as he walks past.

Bee chirps and gives him a thumbs up. He doesn't care if he can't exactly see Sam, just as long as he's close enough to blast any Decepti-creeps that take two strides near him.

He's making good progress.

As Sam approaches the stand, Simmons glances down at him, breaking off from his conversation with the medic- whatever the hell they could be talking about, he has no idea, as he's fairly sure Ratchet isn't too concerned with Simmons's busted leg.

"Ah, _alien _boy makes his return." The man calls down grandly. "First you want to take on Megatron and Sentinel, now your own standard U.S government?" Sam comes to a halt at the base of the stand. "I always said you were a magnet for alien trouble, kid, but this…this is _crazy_!" he roars, and his wheelchair rocks back on its axels.

Sam flinches and glances at Ratchet.

"They gave him pain meds." the medic explains.

Simmons cackles, throwing his head back so far Sam is surprised it doesn't snap.

"_Too _many pain meds." Ratchet elaborates.

Which would explain why Ratchet the Hatchet was talking to him in the first place.

"Yeah…yeah, I can see that." Sam says, and turns to the Autobot. "Where's Optimus?"

"In recharge." Ratchet deadpans. "Re-attaching an arm after a battle with Megatron and Sentinel is laborious work even for our repair systems, and he had to debrief twice in the past two days. He won't be up until tomorrow at the latest. Why?" he asks suddenly.

"I just wanted to talk to him." Sam says, barely dodging that bullet. "About…stuff."

"I see." the medic says wryly. "And does this stuff have anything to do with you having a death wish?"

Sam starts. "Huh?" Ratchet isn't seriously threatening him, is he? He's gone of the deep end before, but-

"Your wrist." says the medic dryly. "Dare I ask what you've been injecting into your systems the past few days?"

Sam glances down and feels his stomach turn over at the sight of the double-rowed scars winding around his wrist, and covers them with his other hand. "Nothing." he says evasively. "Honest. I just had this, um, watch- must have scraped off some skin in Chicago."

"Then you'd have a _scrape_, not puncture holes." Ratchet growls, slowly squatting down to bring his intimidating- though concealed- saws closer. Sam swallows, and knows that's what's on the medic's mind as well.

"I don't know. I'll let you check it out later, okay?" he says, getting panicky, and starts rambling. "Or maybe I should go to a human doctor for human injuries- you know, so you don't break one of my joints thinking it's a clog or something-"

"Don't be ridiculous." snorts Ratchet, and pushes himself back up, much to Sam's relief. He broke a sweat, and he knows it. _No one _lies to Ratchet, and while normally the medic flips over Autobot-related injuries (which are so much more costly to fix due to lacks of certain off-world metals) he only get's formal and grave over human injuries with NEST- that's who he saves the bedside-manners for. Sam knows Ratchet won't waste any of those on someone who's seen him get tripped out in his back yard by a bunch of power lines. He's at least counting on the medic not throwing any wrenches at him.

"Mr. Witwicky." snaps a voice and Sam's back stiffens. He turns to see Charlotte Mearing crossing the warehouse, her face like a thundercloud and her glasses flashing like lightening. "A word in my office, please." she says, albeit a little nicer.

Sam meekly nods, and freezes when he hears Simmons' voice overhead. "Ever know how they get these lights so…sparkly?" he drawls, staring up at the ceiling with a glazed-looking expression.

"Ratchet, please, see if you can give him something to counter-dose whatever's got him seven miles high." she says, sounding infuriated. Her glare at Simmons has enough daggers in it to fill a piñata.

"I'll see what I can do." Ratchet responds somewhat dryly, though Sam wonders if the lady can tell. He sighs follows Charlotte Mearing with one last glance back at Simmons. "He's…something, isn't he?" he tries, going for a topic of conversation they can both agree on.

Charlotte snorts as she leads him to the wall of the warehouse and up a flight of stairs onto the wrap-around second floor. "I'd say you have no idea, but given the past circumstances of the last few years you probably _do_."

"Yeah, you could say that." Sam replies, thinking of Simmons at Hoover Dam, Jordan, and the underground Russian bar he dragged him to. "I thought you had him arrested." he remembers suddenly.

"He's too rich to keep in jail." she growls.

Sam grins in spite of himself.

She leads him to a door set into the wall between to large stations of computers, and Sam realizes that there must actually be a second floor for this to be possible, meaning that this warehouse is even bigger than he thought. She unlocks it from a key that she pulls out of nowhere, and ushers him inside.

It looks a lot like her old office back in D.C, only without all the medals and a cheaper desk. She sits behind it, her battle face already on, reminding him why they're here.

"Now look, Sam." she says, fixing him with her beady stare. He's surprised- that's the first time he's ever heard her use his first name.

"I wasn't lying when I told you I had underestimated you." she says, folding her hands on her desk. Sam shifts nervously in his seat, and wishes Carly were here with him. She'd know something brilliant to say. "And if I said that before Chicago, you can bet to hell I sure mean it now."

"Thanks…"

"But," she says sharply, and he starts. "That doesn't mean I'm just going to let you parade around in NEST doing whatever the hell you want."

He blinks. "Sorry?"

"Demanding dinner with the president? Ordering me to listen to you? I can tolerate that to an extent, Mr. Witwicky, I've learned to where your Autobots are concerned, but I won't be shown up in front of NEST and you can bet that attitude won't get you anywhere with the president."

"He likes me." Sam says automatically. "He gave me a medal."

Her stare is deadpan.

Sam shakes his head. "Look that's not what I mean." he says quickly, holding out his hands. "I'm not trying to order anyone around- that's Optimus' job, not mine. Having someone hear me out once and a while- that would be nice, cause so far Will Lennox, Robert Epps, and Secretary of Defense John Keller are the only ones who do. You did once- after you threatened me with treason just a few minutes after meeting me- and I'm sick of being ignored." She opens her mouth to respond, but he leans forward, trying to enforce his point. "I'm not saying that anyone should listen to me, Mrs. Mearing, just that they should hear me out, because the Autobots know full well I know what I'm doing, and it's about time you guys did, too." Hasn't he proved that three times already?

"I know the Autobots mean you nothing but the best, Sam," she says coldly. "But if all they've given you is a big ego, maybe it's time they stepped down a little where you're concerned."

"I'm not getting cocky or anything," he assures her. "Honestly, I've been kidnapped by Decepticons and made myself look like an idiot way too much for that to happen. But I do know what's right and wrong where the Autobots are concerned, and I know they did _nothing _wrong. And you know it too." he adds, remembering what she said earlier. "I'm kind of known for having a smart mouth, Mrs. Mearing, but isn't that what politics is all about? I know the Autobots better than anyone- Except maybe Will- and contrary to popular belief, I'm _not _just a kid anymore."

He leans forward, looking deep into her eyes, trying to will her to understand. "I'm not a kid anymore. I majored in political science when I graduated college, I know how to defend them better than anyone, and I have _faith _in them. Why _shouldn't _I try to talk with the president about this? And one thing I've learned is that if you don't yell loud enough, these bigwigs will just steam roll you flat. I'm not going to let anyone steam roll the Autobots, not after what happened with Galloway or the space shuttle. I'm not doing this to be a brat- I'm doing it because I _know _what's _right_."

He sits back, and let's that sink in, and can't help himself from tacking on, "If you don't want me, that's fine, but I should tell you that Will's diplomacy skills aren't as sharp as his battle skills. He doesn't like-"

"That's enough." Mrs. Mearing says, holding out a hand, and he mentally smirks. It seems, by the look on her face, that the Hoover Dam incident that ended with Will pinning Simmons to the hood of a car with a gun over his heart has probably reached her ears as well.

"So basically what you're telling me," she says slowly. "Is that you're the man for the job, whether I like it or not?"

He blinks, trying to come up with an appropriate answer.

"If you want Will…"

"Sam." she interrupts, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. But she doesn't say anything else. They sit like that for a while, boy staring at older Psycho Lady, green eyes locked on light blue. She seems to be looking for something, but he's not sure what.

"What if I told you," she says carefully, breaking the silence, "That I could get the president on webcam right now and have you two duel it out in my office? This instant?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, ok. Do it."

"I'm not bluffing."

"Neither am I."

Silence stretches out between them again. He _wasn't _bluffing, and he meant it. He'd rather have time to take a shower, eat something, and think about what the hell he's going to say, but the sooner he can get this started, the sooner they can live without the threat of punishment over their heads.

She sighs suddenly, and pulls of her glasses, rubbing her temples with one hand while polishing the lenses with another on her shirt. "You never stop, do you, Sam?" she asks.

The corner of his lips twitches in a smile, as he remembers a sixteen-year old high-schooler who clung to a statue on a rooftop in full fear, but defied Megatron till the very end, even if it meant getting smashed onto the street below.

"No sacrifice, no victory."

The words seem to strike her, and she pauses, and looks at him carefully, glasses still in one hand. "I think I've heard that somewhere before."

"Optimus?"

"Bumblebee."

"Yeah, he would remember that."

"I know you have faith in what's right, Sam." she says seriously, and settles her glasses back on her nose. "But I need to know…do you have faith in yourself?"

He looks her dead in the eye. He still doesn't think of himself as a hero, despite what that shiny medal in his bedroom might say. Even in Mission City, when he was the one who destroyed the Allspark and took out Megatron, it still wasn't _him_. It was _them_, it had been them all along. And as he raced through those streets, and through the hot sands at Giza, and through the ruins of Chicago to the Master Pillar, he knew, inside, that he could do the impossible, because he had to. But this wasn't about him; this had never been just about _him_, and she needs to know that. "I have faith in the Autobots, Mrs. Mearing. That's all I need to believe in."


	3. All That Glitters Part 3: Sunrise

When he first wakes up, he feels disoriented. His room is dark- so dark, he can't see the edge of his own bed, and nearly topples off it before the sensation of falling and the near-blinding glare of the red digital clock next to his head wakes him up like a slap.

His body jerks and his hand clutches the edge of the mattress like a claw, and he blinks blearily until the red lines blur back into place to form three simple numbers.

3:43.

Jet Lag. _Damn _Jet lag.

His internal clock had only just gotten used to Chicago time, before Will dragged him out here to keep him safe from the general government briefings and press for a few days. But that little haven ended approximately three hours and forty-three minutes ago.

He has a briefing today.

With Optimus.

About his involvement.

With Dylan.

And Soundwave.

And Decepticons.

Slag.

He rolls back over, away from the faint gleam of the clock, and lies on his stomach with the sheets twisted around his torso, one hand in his hair.

This sucks. This beyond sucks. This is _crap_.

Because a meeting with bigwigs about a meeting with Dylan means talking about his involvement means why he was dragged into this slag-world-battle-shit in the first place, which means admitting to betraying the Autobots and this is all right before he has dinner with the president. And then he remembers- hell, NEST was forced to let him get booked for lunch with the JCS too.

_Slag_.

In the middle of a meeting with the most powerful people in the United States talking about how he sold the Autobots out by wearing some crappy, _evil _watch and basically threw them all to hell- or would have- is not exactly the way he wants them to find out about what he did. He thinks about Bee's face- about the disappointment he knows he'll see in his optics, and his stomach clenches in pain, and tightens and he squeezes his eyes shut, bringing himself almost into a ball.

But he doesn't.

After a few minutes he takes a deep breath, and tries to relax. No matter what, he has to tell them. Even if he didn't have this stupid meeting, he would still do it- if only because it was the right thing, at most because he can't look the president- or anyone- straight in the face and try to represent them, knowing that he has sold them out himself.

Time to find Optimus.

He rolls to his other side, away from the wall, and sits up in his bed. Once the blood rushes back down from his head, he stands and tries to get dressed quickly, cursing and stumbling in the dark. When he finally emerges form his room at four-thirty in the morning, dressed in sneakers, jeans, and a black jacket thrown over his white undershirt that he had slept in, he narrows his eyes against them dim night-lighting of the base.

And then the thought hits him.

Followed by the panic.

Going to find _Optimus_? No slagging way. _First_? No _slagging _way. He's too ashamed- and besides, he feels like he should find Bee first. He's the one who knows him best (followed shortly by…_him_), so maybe it's better to see what Bee thinks first, anyways. If the scout really understands, and forgives him, then he'll take it up with Optimus and the others, and do whatever they want for as long as he lives.

If not…he'll stand through his meeting with the three that are penciled in today, cancel whatever follow-ups he knows NEST is already having to plan, and live out his life with a dinky wannabe Bumblebee-like car in the middle of nowhere with Carly and-

His imagination is getting way ahead of him.

Finding Bumblebee is still the best thought he's had all morning, though, and no matter what the scout thinks, Sam knows they'll still be friends, he hopes, and he'll go on apologizing until he ticks every last Autobot off the list.

He sets off down the hallway, wondering which direction the Autobot hangar is, and hoping he can find the yellow scout without waking anyone else up or having to ask for directions.

* * *

><p>Forty five minutes later, he has to admit that he is hopelessly lost.<p>

The NEST quarters didn't look that big when he pulled up. So how was the small collection of buildings so difficult to get around in? It was only when he realized a couple of flights of stairs later that he was on floor 3B, and that the basement was a lot bigger than what was shown on top.

Thankfully, he made his way back into the world of the living, and though he had yet to run into more than three people in this entire base, he knew that they were all awake behind closed doors and in the hangar and outside on patrol. Now if only he knew where the Pit he was-

He pushes open a likely-looking door, one that was heavy and grey and would probably lock as soon as it shut behind him, but he is getting so frustrated he no longer cares. Abruptly he finds himself outside, in the pre-dawn world, the night sky dark and the stars glimmering and the cool breeze reaching up to blow back his slightly-damp hair and caress his face. The coolness of it drenched out the slight panic from his lungs, and he pauses, letting the door shut and allowing himself to calm down. Then, deciding he better get back in, soon, before one of the guards accidentally shoots him and Bee goes into a full-on rampage, he looks around.

He is on the wide ring of concrete and asphalt that encircled the main NEST building, the one he and Lennox had parked in yesterday. Which means this is the Autobot hangar building, right?

Realizing he was close to a corner, Sam made for it and rounded it.

The sight awaiting around the other side was exactly what he was hoping to not meet. Not yet.

He froze.

But, this is too coincidental to be called coincidence, so fate must be messing with him again, and this must be where he needs to be. Uncertain, he moves again and makes for the towering figure standing alone at the end of the long stretch of concrete on the deserted side of the back of the NEST hangar.

He stands against the sunrise like a beacon of hope, towering and gleaming and beautiful all at once. You couldn't tell that just a few days ago, he had an arm ripped off. You couldn't tell that just a few days ago, he went through hell.

Sam remembers the last time he saw him like this; just a few days after Giza, when they stood on that aircraft carrier together. He literally _had _gone through hell that time. So this time, it should be better, right?

Right?

He takes a deep breath of the clear morning air, and hesitantly steps forward, his mind a tangled jumble of thoughts and having no idea what to say. Where does one begin when one confesses to treason in the highest degree?

I know this is going to sound weird, but I'm sorry for-

Hey, I don't really know how to say this, but-

The claws! You should have seen the claws! They were going to eat her-

I spit in his face, that counts for something, right? Why? Oh, because I betrayed you-

He reaches the end of the asphalt. He's standing level with him now. The warrior doesn't say anything.

Wondering what could entrance him so, Sam looks out onto the horizon. It's early, really early, so the sky is still dark and littered with stars that you'd never see in the big city, but the rim around the dark outline of the trees is bright blue, a startling contrast. The waning moon looks down on them like a gleaming claw in the sky, and he knows even as he glances at it that he'll never think of it the same way again.

They stand there for a long time in silence. Feeling like he can't even look up for shame, and that the tangled knots in his stomach are trying to loop around and strangle one another, he desperately searches the horizon, seeking something that holds the calm leader's gaze that might steady his own heart.

That's when the sky began to change.

Usually he was up right when the sun crested over the horizon, or, being a young adult, way after, but this was different. He couldn't see the sun yet, it was somewhere behind the trees, but the sky was getting brighter, and more than that, it was changing colors. The bottom was a bright gold, fading into orange and to yellow, then to the tinniest bit of green and then to indigo and then to dusky purple that stretched out over and behind their heads to where the world was still sleeping. It was, in so many ways, your normal sunrise, but it still startled him.

Deciding it was time to break this long silence, he racked his brain for a few more minutes before something just blurted out of his mouth.

"Pretty."

He instantly regretted it.

"Beautiful." Optimus corrected, finally speaking, his voice rumbling into the air with that authority of thunder that it always seemed to have. Just hearing it relaxed him, and all the awkwardness drained away, but the guilt seemed to double.

Unable to look at it any longer, Sam dropped his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess so." he said quietly, nudging a rock with his sneaker.

"It is. Even Sentinel said so. I have seen many worlds, Sam. More than you will ever know exist. And I have lived on Cybertron, a world I doubt you could imagine. But few things I have ever seen truly compare to a sunrise on _your _planet." He pauses, and then adds, "Our planet."

Sam's breath catches, and for a minute a spark of hope blinds him to the guilt in his chest. "You really are staying, then?" he says, and looks up.

Brilliant blue optics that glow brighter than the stars fading above them meet his eyes. "Of course." Optimus says, a gentle expression on his face. "I said so in Chicago, I mean to stand by that now. We will never leave your planet alone against what is set before you. We will protect and guard it always." He looks back out on the horizon. "It is our home now."

Sam looks down, and tries to hide his smile. Then he looks back up at the sunrise. "Is it really that beautiful to you?" he asks, shifting his weight to his other foot as the sky grows slightly and steadily brighter. "I mean, I know it is, but you have seen so much…"

"I died for that sunrise, Sam." Optimus reminds him. "As did you. To think that such a natural wonder could happen every day still astounds me."

Hm. He had never thought of it like that before.

They fall into a short silence again, and Sam's heart starts beating in his chest again, and he still has absolutely no idea how he is going to say this. But it's what he came here to do, and he won't be able to do anything for them, especially face the president, and trust himself fully if he's keeping such a secret from him. He needs to tell him, he needs them to know, and then, if Optimus still wants it, he'll duke it out with whoever they throw in his path, if only to defend his alien family. But he can't go out there like this, with his heart still stained black by guilt.

"You are nervous." Optimus states bluntly.

"Anxious." Sam replies, heart beating like a drum. It's now or never.

"Look, Optimus, there's…something a need to tell you. Now. Before I go out there and face off with the president or whoever else pops up in this whole stupid problem. Something you need to know."

"What is it, boy?" he hears Optimus say, his voice low and concerned and careful.

Sam swallows, and without thinking, begins.

"They had had Carly." his whispered voice cracks and fades on the last syllable of her name.

Silence.

He looks up, and green eyes meet blue optics, and before he even realizes what he's doing, his mouth is open and he's spilling everything at the speed of light.

"That car Dylan got her, it was Soundwave and I only figured it out after I realized he was working for the Decepticons, and it grabbed her and she was trapped inside and these things came out started touching her face and these huge _huge _like sumo wrestlers grabbed me and I couldn't move, and then he-he said he was going kill her and she started screaming, and- and he- he gave me this watch thing and told me if she was going to live then I had to ask you how you were going to fight back and he said it was cause I was the only human you trusted, and- oh my god I- I'm so sorry, I didn't- I never-"

"Sam."

The word stops him like a cement wall. He looks up.

Optimus is staring down at him, a dismissive expression on his face. "Sam," he repeats, "we already know."

And just like that, Sam feels his stomach drop like he's on a rollercoaster, and he feels relieved and anxious and worried and even more ashamed that every Autobot on Earth has known that he's a cold black-hearted traitor for days.

"What?" he says, voice squeaking pathetically.

Optimus blinks, and looks at him with something that's a mixture of pity and regret. "You were marked."

Now Sam blinks. An image flashes behind his eyes- Dylan standing there in his yard while Soundwave grabbed a screaming Carly and the houseguests simply laughed as if a bad-tempered dog was chasing the next-door boy up a tree.

"Dylan…" he says slowly, trying to piece together what is being said, but there's just too much missing.

"Has been following you for years." Optimus says, turning to him slowly. "We hacked his records shortly after we left Chicago…Sideswipe was bored." he adds.

Sam briefly wonders how the hell anyone can be bored after an American city became ground zero in alien hell, but…well, _Sideswipe_.

"Like, _stalking _me?" he asks, still slightly baffled.

"Yes." Optimus says slowly. "You were part of a plan, Sam, just like the rest of that day, though you didn't figure into it till much later."

He let's out a short breath of disbelief. "How?"

"Megatron may have seemed insane in his quest for power." Optimus says, turning away to the sunrise and shaking his head. "Perhaps he always was. But he was not, Sam, foolish. Never. Every battle strategy he had planned on Cybertron was always a twisted ploy, just a step in the plot of something else. It may have seemed like he just rained down destruction there everywhere, but he used it as a tool skillfully wielded, and it nearly worked."

Sam let's that sink in, and waits patiently, but anxiously, for more.

"The one thing that could have possibly upset that day- and _did_, Sam- was an unforeseen enemy attack." Optimus says. "We were the one thing that could stop Megatron and Sentinel, but with us out of the way, the enemy would have a certain chance of winning. It was the one crack in Megatron's plan from the beginning, one he worried about even on Cybertron when he had first sealed this treacherous deal. And he filled that crack in with you."

Sam bows his head, as the weight of what he really was- was four years without even realizing it- crashes on his shoulders. "I was marked." he repeats.

"From the day Megatron saw you in Mission City with the Cube…yes, boy, you were."

He takes a shaky breath. All that time, he had believed he was safe. Two blissful, peaceful years after Mission City, before a Pretender had come and shattered his world again, he thought he was _safe_. And then for four years after that- restless, boring, but peaceful and _safe _four years- not a thing. And then his entire world- _the _entire world- had been up heaved and turned over and broken seemingly beyond repair, before it was precariously but firmly righted again. But realizing that someone has been stalking your every move for six years, and that that someone is Megatron…well, it was, putting it bluntly, terrifying.

"Six years." he says finally. All his growing-up adult life.

"I am sorry, Sam." Optimus says.

Sam's head snaps up. "_What_?"

The look on Optimus' face is full of regret. "I'm afraid that was my fault, Sam. Megatron saw how I acted in the forest battle, and he didn't forget it in a hurry. It is my fault he singled you out."

"No." Sam says, brushing that apology aside, because there's absolutely no reason for it in the world. "It's not. Dylan and Megatron didn't have to pick me. He said I was the only human you trusted- but he was wrong. It could have been Will or Epps or anyone. It didn't _have _to be me. It just was."

Optimus' optics are sad. "It was you the minute Megatron laid eyes on you, boy."

Sam thinks about the creepy and disturbing feeling of being followed so closely by such a psychopath- multiple ones, actually- for so many years, and of being a part of something one such a magnitude that he didn't even know existed. And then he thinks of Megatron and Sentinel's dead bodies at the bottom of the Laurentian Abyss.

"I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore." he says, looking up at the one who delivered them from hell, twice.

Optimus looks back out onto the sunrise. "No, I suppose not."

He watches the Autobot's towering figure for a moment, dark and bright against the now warm horizon. The first crest of the sun rises above the treetops, washing the world in glowing color. "I'm sorry." he says quietly.

Optimus doesn't look away from the sunrise. "He was going to kill someone innocent, Sam. Someone you loved." He looks back down at the boy. "Loosing someone like that isn't worth all the suffering in the world. We knew the dangers of the Decepticons long before you were even born. When we chose to stay here, we knew we might die to protect those that lived here. It was a choice we made long ago, boy. Don't dishonor us by trying to save us from such a fate. It is worth dying for."

Sam takes a deep breath, and as he lets it out, he feels like all the guilt that has been gnawing at him like a lion deep inside just…disappears. It's the best feeling in the world. They stand like that for a long time, like they did that morning on the aircraft carrier, watching the sunrise. And as he stares at it, Sam knows this isn't the end. Far from it.

It is only the beginning.


	4. Prepping

"And what Decepticon did your girlfriend's car transform into?"

A gleaming flash of silver; Carly's resonating scream; the feeling that the entire world had suddenly slipped and he was three steps behind in a game he hadn't known he'd been playing.

"Soundwave… it was Soundwave."

"How long was he in her possession?"

She was parked out front, amazing everyone who passed by. He leaned on a door that felt cold even in the bright sunlight; she was breaking up with him. And then that night…

"Just a few days."

The member of the JCS checks a file in front of him, flipping over a paper before letting it fall back down in its uniformed, organized, pristine stack. As if anyone could ever _categorize _what all had happened into something so small and normal…it blows his mind.

"The reports say that she had this car for sometime. Did none of the Autobots sense it for what it really was?"

Sam stirs at that. "It wasn't their fault." he said, before Optimus can do little more than shift on the left side of the podium. "We weren't near any energon sensors in that part of the city. They had no way of knowing."

The general's eyes flicker over to where Lennox is standing on a lower level of the podium. The major nods, eyes wide and alert.

"Very well." He settles back in his chair. "Then what happened?"

The night air so cool on his skin; the panic that made his brain whirl and his body tremble. "He transformed again and she ended up in his cab. I tried to get her out, but three of Dylan's bouncers grabbed me."

The man's eyebrows raise at that. "Three?"

His mind flickers at a thought of his middle school and freshmen years. "I have a lot of experience dealing with a bunch of guys trying to smash my face in." he says flatly.

The commander's skeptical expression freezes in place. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"And then?" he says, diplomatically moving on.

The feeling of wet grass on his face- the feeling that made his stomach clench. "The decked me." Sam says. "Picked me up again. Then Dylan came up."

"Dylan Gould?"

A dark, handsome faced smiled behind his eyes. "Yeah."

"And then?"

"He told me…" Sam takes a deep breath. He glances at Optimus, who looks diplomatically impassive, and continues. "Told me that he needed someone close to the Autobots…that they'd been looking for years. He needed me to ask Optimus how they intended to fight back. Battle strategies…everything. Or they'd crush Carly."

The general glances down at the little stack of paper again, eyes scanning. "Yes…Ms Spencer's debriefing says that, and I quote, 'little red claw-things scary enough to be something out of Terminator played with my hair like a goddamn Barbie doll.'"

He almost, almost smiles. "That's about right."

"And after that?"

"I told Dylan to go to hell." he says, shrugging shoulders. "Spat in his face. Then his guys sucker-punched me and he threatened Carly again."

"So he made you a spy."

Sam shifts uncomfortably at that, and suddenly Optimus speaks up from beside him, coming to stand in full view of the imager. "Sam's actions are neither regrettable, nor unforgivable, by any of us." he rumbles. "Sacrificing Carly Spencer would just defeat the purpose of what the Autobots are here to do- and that is to protect the innocent."

The general blinks at the Autobot Commander's defensive tone, and out of the corner of his eye, Sam sees Will whisper something to an unusually quiet Charlotte Mearing.

He's thankful that the 'bot would step in for him, but he no longer feels like defending is necessary. The truth of Optimus' words just a few hours ago have sunk into his very core; Prime was right, there's nothing else he could have done, and doing otherwise would have simply denied them the right to fight for what they really believed in. It would have been wrong to let Carly suffer for something that others had wanted- and accepted- to die for long ago.

"How…What technology did Dylan use to transmit the data that was provided?" the general asks. It's a nicer question than _how did he turn you into a spy._

"A watch." Sam says, unconsciously flexing his left arm, where the scars still plainly show. "He had this little Decepticon watch-thing…it transmitted everything that was said back to the Decepticon's headquarters- I don't know where."

"And what became of this watch?"

"It slid off once the shuttle was blown."

"And just disappeared?"

He blinks, remembering how it simply vanished through the folds of the old scaffolding he was standing on. "Yeah. I tried to step on it- but- I don't think that did much."

"So we still have a rogue agent Decepticon that could be on the president's arm right now?" the man asked, in a tone similar to Morshower's.

Sam's left hand clenched. "I doubt it. When that thing latches onto you, you _feel _it."

The general nods. "Very well, but I still want someone to find that thing before the month's up. The little ones are almost always more trouble than the big ones."

Oh, how right he was.

"We'll have someone on it as soon as we can." says Will, "But right now we're more preoccupied with finding the Decepticons who escaped Chicago."

"How many are unaccounted for?"

Based on the tone of Will's answer, it was obviously a question he had heard many times before. "The original number was uncertain. Around two hundred were warped to D.C, about one hundred and seventeen were found in Chicago."

"No one forget the watch."

"We won't."

The general turns his attention back to Sam. "Now, about the people at Dylan's house- can you identify them?"

Finally, what they're really here for. Too bad they won't get much.

He blinks, recalling the quiet garden party and the feelings of panic, fear, and confusion again. "I had other things on my mind at the time. All I really remember is an old couple- I think the man had glasses on. You might just want to look into whoever was on really close business terms with Dylan- they were probably at that party."

"Already being done." says Charlotte Mearing, even as the general looks at her. "We've already arrested two people. The others have given us alibis, but they probably won't hold up, especially once we do a radiation reading."

A memory from what feels like forever ago flits through his memory. "Like Simmons did with me back before Mission City?" he asks, remembering that tense moment in his living room, the unbelieving look on Simmons's face, and the people swarming the house in masks ripping up his mom's flowers.

Mearing's glinting eyes turn to him. "Something like that." she says. "Though I'm sure that by now you'd break the meter, Mr. Witwicky."

He takes that as a compliment.

"Further more", continues the general. "Do you know anything else about this human organization that works for the Decepticons? Or any other ones, perhaps?"

Yeah, like in his spare time he's studied the corporation conspiracies of Decepticons while he's been out in the world gone to- and recently brought back from- hell.

"No. Nothing."

He can see the disappointment in the general's face, before he quickly recovers his composure. "Can't say I didn't expect that."

"Sorry."

"The CIA currently have their best agents on the job." spoke up Charlotte Mearing. "And all the CEO's we have in custody are singing like canaries."

"Really?" the general sounded surprised.

She smirked. "Yes."

Sensing there was more to that story than she was letting on, but finding his attention recalled to the screen, Sam turns back to the general for now.

"Thank you for you help, Mr. Witwicky." he says formally. "The United States Army thanks you for your services."

Leading an unauthorized rebellion this year; becoming Public Enemy Number One three years ago; hiding five NBE's from them two years before that. Thankful? You _bet_. If he hadn't helped save the world three times, he's sure he would have been locked somewhere in the Hoover Dam or Siberia while Simmons stood outside his cage, poking him with a stick.

At least he's got the Autobots on his side.

"Your welcome."

Shaking his head at Sam's very civilian attitude, the general signs of.

Sam takes a deep breath and rocks back on his heels, rolling his shoulders.

"Well, that all went very well." said Mearing, raising her voice so that everyone stood to attention. "Act like that with the rest of the JCS at lunch and the president at dinner, and I'm sure you might just make it here after all."

"…Thanks?"

"Whatever." she turns and begins to climb down the scaffolding easily, despite the high heels. Bewildered, Sam looks at Will. The soldier simply rolls his eyes, before turning and following.

"Well done, Sam." says the slow and steady voice of Optimus. The boy turns to the alien leader, leaning on the railing as the mech shifted his weight to face him. "You told your story well."

Sam grimaces. "I still wish there was more I could have done." he says. "Everything about that night was just…wrong, you know?"

"I am familiar with the phenomenon." replies the Autobot dryly.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are." Sam flashes him a weak grin. And then he shakes his head. "Cross your fingers that I won't break any furniture around the president this time."

"Or the JCS." he is reminded.

"Or the JCS." Sam agrees, grinning wider.

"You will do fine, Sam." Optimus assures him, deep eyes sincere. "Already you are becoming a force of your own, though I doubt you realize it. Your conversation with Charlotte Mearing just yesterday proves that. I am honored that you would stand up for us so strongly." He tips his head in the direction of the door that leads to the Autobot hangar. "We all are."

"Thanks, but it's really no more than you guys deserve, after all…"

Something clicks. "Wait…" he frowns at Optimus, who looks only innocently curious. "You just talked about Charlotte Mearing's conversation like you were…there."

Optimus blinks. Slowly.

"_Were _you there?"

"Sam, I'm sure you would have seen us."

"Optimus!"

"Calm down, calm down." he muttered, holding out his massive hands, just like he had that night outside Sam's window so many years ago. "Bumblebee couldn't physically follow you, so he kept an audio on you instead. It was purely a safety precaution."

"And Sideswipe was bored again."

"We were all curious." Optimus says, dodging that bullet. "Ratchet especially, as to what you would say. I promise this will not be a regular occurrence."

"Right." Sam says slowly, scrutinizing the Autobot commander. He knows they have a point- and with super advanced robot technology and nothing to do, he's pretty sure he'd do the same. And it's a meeting about _their _future, so if anyone has a right to hack in, it's them. And he knows how Bee gets sometimes.

"Fine. If you promise not to hack every meeting I have, I'll let it slide."

"I promise." Optimus reverently answered. Not _every _meeting. Sam notices with some amusement that that's probably the best deal he's going to get.

"Optimus!" Someone- Will, it sounded like, yelled.

Both Prime and Sam's heads snapped around at the source of the noise.

Will is standing near the human-sized door, and Morshower is next to him. The soldier nods. "We've got one."

"Sam."

The boy looks up, back into those blazing blue optics of the being he has come to stand in awe of more than any other person on the planet, and knows at once what Will's call means.

"I am leaving Bumblebee here with you." Optimus says. "I have learned from my mistakes."

"They were mine, too." Sam tells him, thinking of the forest battle- but he knows it's the incident with Lazerbeak that's on Prime's mind.

"Regardless, he will remain here." He says, and takes a half step back, turning toward the hangar door. "I wish you the best with your president, Sam. Good luck."

And with that, he begins the transformation back into a Peterbuilt truck. The semi's engine roars to life as he pulls forward, the hangar doors open automatically for him, and the truck's horn blares once, echoing off the walls of the warehouse. Sam hears the responding snarl of several engines- he's not quite sure whose- start up in response somewhere on the other side, before the door slams down shut again, leaving him in the empty silence.

"Yeah…" he whispers. "You too."

"Mr. Witwicky", calls a loud voice. Charlotte Mearing. "A word."

Sam lets out a long breath, then shakes himself out of stupor and climbs numbly down the step ladder. Once he reaches the bottom, he heads over to where his maybe-future-boss is standing, tall in her high heels. They walk away from the podium together, towards the conference room.

"Nice story telling." she tells him.

"Thanks."

"Do you have any idea what you're going to say to the president at dinner?"

"I'm working on it."

"Sam." she says, in a low and urgent voice. He turns, surprised at the tone, and finds that she is looking at him earnestly. Not threateningly, not trying to intimidate, just…earnest. "I told you I underestimated you." she says quietly. "And once again, I assure that I meant it, but I'm putting a lot of trust in you to let you do this." She leans forward. "A little advice? Don't blow it."

"I won't fail them." Sam assures her, and actually feels as confident as he sounds- something that usually only happens in the middle of some freaky alien battle or right before they're about to get almost-clobbered. "I _won't_." he repeats, when she still looks a little unsure.

She takes a deep breath, in and out of her nose and leans back. Then with a nod, she turns, and he hurries after her.

"Um, can I ask you something, Ms. Mearing?"

"I'd warn you that I can only answer what isn't classified, but classified always seems to find you anyways." She tells him. "What is it?"

"The people you have in custody. What exactly did you do to get them to talk?"

She turns around suddenly, and he has to check himself to keep from bumping into her. There is a disturbing smirk on her face.

"You remember who they worked for before."

"Um, yeah."

"Then you'll also know that these people have a healthy fear of their bosses." Her smirk grows more pronounced. "These people don't really know the difference between working for a Decepticon and working for an Autobot. They just know about working for a Transformer, and if experience is anything to go by, they sure don't want to get on the Autobots' bad side. Especially after most of them saw what they did to the ones in Chicago."

He almost sighs. But he doesn't feel one damn bit sorry. Those idiots who watched Carly get snatched out of the air and him beaten by those bouncers deserved much worse.

Let them imagine.

"Anything else, Mr. Witwicky? Because I have a meeting in ten, and you'd better start prepping yourself for the JCS in five."

Prepping? He looks fine in his polo shirt and wrinkle-free jeans. But he doesn't say so.

"Yeah. Okay."

She nods, turns sharp as a cadet, and then marches off in her heels, a small entourage of ensigns and aides swarming like groupies the instant she does following her as she goes.

Sam briefly promises himself that if he ever really get's into all of this - um, professionally- he won't let that happen to him. Bumblebee is the only guardian and data pad that he needs- even though Wheelie's already volunteered for the second job, if it means he can sleep in the house again.

Hands in his pockets, mind blocking out what he's going to have to say in a few hours, Sam strolls off in search of the yellow scout. He'll get more prepping out of talking to his ages-old best friend than changing his shirt. They're the one advantage he has over any other politician in the world- the Autobots. Anybody can buy a nice suit. Why waste time getting ready in a room, running the lines of a speech somebody else wrote for you over and over again in your head, than talking to your car? Even if there was a little bit of joyriding along the way.


	5. The Lie

The president said he would think about it.

That much alone gave Sam insane cause to be happy. The meeting had started off a little tense, and a little defensive, with Obama warning him he did not know what to expect from the world's leaders after this incident, or what to expect for himself. But after Sam had finally explained what the reports only grazed over, the true meaning behind the sacrifice or the Autobots in Chicago, there was hardly any uncertaincy in the president's eyes. When he told him what they had done to Cybertron- what they had done for _Earth_- the leader of the free world looked floored.

Floored was good.

So Sam had felt pretty good about the meeting.

Until he asked about the Xantium.

All things considered, telling the president that the extraterrestrial beings who had defied his orders for years in consenting to leave Earth in a rocket ship that cost billions to fuel- a project they knew was going to fail, and that it was all a part of their plan all along was not good for their image.

Especially when that image decided what planet they would be sleeping on tomorrow. After the world was done _using _them to exterminate the remaining Decepticons, of course.

So, determination altered, fire slightly quenched, Sam broke a sweat as he opened his mouth to answer.

And then someone else's voice had completely overpowered his own before he even started.

And it was _Charlotte Mearing_.

"The Autobots picked up on the threat from Starscream once he launched the missile at them. They managed to escape in the pod meant for their injection into space once the Xantium ran out of fuel and splashed down into the Atlantic. There they raced straight to Chicago- good timing, to, because if they had waited to check in with us, Mr. Witwicky here and the entire advance team would be dead."

Sam's jaw had almost dropped.

Charlotte Mearing- government agent under the direct authority, control, and absolute power of the president- was lying. _To _the president.

Slagging. _Hell_.

"The remains of the ship were lost out over the Atlantic…it would be pointless to try and recover them for reasons other than recycling. They are virtually useless now."

He had caught up with her after the meeting in the hallway, when they were alone.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, eyes wide.

She archly raised an eyebrow at him. "Pardon me?"

"Lying to the _president_? Especially considering who _you _are?"

She stared at him coldly, eyes glinting. "Sam," she growled, "I am the Director of Intelligence. If you are going to accuse me of failing my job and committing treason, please do it in a courtroom, and be prepared for the millions you are going to _loose_."

Sam stared at her in total confusion. "But you said-"

"There was an attack launched on the Xantium." said Mearing firmly. "The Autobots sensed the danger and managed to escape out of the pod meant for their injection into space. And we're damn lucky they did."

Yeah, he knew that. He was the one who had a Decepticon ship take aim at him a nanosecond before it was blasted into the street by Optimus, not her. He opened his mouth to argue.

"Mr. Witwicky, this issue had already been cleared up with the UN," said Mearing with a perfectly straight face. "That was why there was so much confusion two days ago during the meeting with the Chicago infiltration team and the main body of NEST. Once the reports were filled in by the Autobots after their repairs, we dropped it."

"But-"

"Will Lennox has been briefed on this matter.

"But-!"

"Good day, Sam. And I highly advise you to _drop the subject_."

She turned on her heel and stalked off down the hallway, probably to terrorize some other part of the base.

And Sam had stood there until he doubled over laughing.

So Charlotte Mearing, the woman who had once warned him of treason, off-worlding the Autobots, and the importance of paperwork, was one of them.

_We must be contagious_, he thought, whipping a tear from his eye. _After you get past the metal and the saving-the-world stuff and Will Lennox, of course._

So that explained why he was here, in the rec. room with Will, thumbing through reports.

Sam leans on the table and rubs his thumbs together. "So…just got off a meeting with the president today."

"Mm hm." hums Will, eyes still scanning down the complicated military terms that still completely fly over Sam's head. He has on his civilian leather jacket with his feet propped up on the table. His motorcycle keys clink together on the keychain Annabelle made him in his back pocket. The only ones brave enough to tease the big, bad warrior about using a pink flower key chain for his bike and the arms room were Epps and the few remaining Soccent survivors. "I heard." He flips a page over. "Good job."

Sam waits for the man to add something. But he doesn't, just sits there. Whatever he's reading must be really interesting.

Hoping to finally get his attention, Sam says, "Are you aware that Charlotte Mearing is lying for the Autobots to the president of the United States?"

Will gives a small, casual nod, eyes flitting down another page.

"Of America?" adds Sam, chocked.

Will sighs and closes the folder, tossing it down on the table. He picks up another, from the same stack, and starts the process over again. "Even _she _can see that we need the Autobots. And the world won't be very happy with them if they knew they hid in a booster rocket and snuck out to Chicago to save humanity's sorry asses instead of lying in pieces at the bottom of the Atlantic, would they?"

Sam winces at that image. "Yeah, but…"

"But, you still don't like lying about it," finishes Will, flipping over another page. "I get it. But it's sometimes you have to make sacrifices like that. Besides, the Autobots would still leave if we asked them too, now that the War is over-sort of. And that's what makes all the difference."

Sam snorts. "I'm not worried about the morality of it, if that's what you're wondering," he says. "There wasn't any _morality _in sending the 'bots off-world in the first place. _That _was immoral. I'm just wondering what's going to happen to them if we get caught."

There is a long, unnatural pause. Sam glances over at the colonel to see his eyes frozen on one spot of the folder he's reading. The look on his face is alarmed.

"Will?"

Will blinks, and folds the folder over again. "Stupid reports." he mutters, and shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Look…don't worry about this, okay? Charlotte Mearing knows better than anyone what she's getting herself into. She's not Galloway."

"You've done this before, haven't you?" demands Sam, eyes widening. "That's why you got promoted to Colonel and NEST remained active after Operation Firestorm. You pushed Galloway out of a plane."

"Correction, I didn't push, _he _pulled the parachute way to soon." growls Will, looking at him for the first time since he came into the room. "Dumb ass," he adds under his breath. "And the plane was suffering from a malfunction." he says with a straight face. Completely straight. "The aircraft was isolated and repaired."

Sam sniggers. "You are so full of crap."

Will cuffs him lightly upside the head, then rises to his feet. "You've got a meeting in ten." he says, glancing at the clock over the door. "Oh, and I got a call from the med bay this morning. Ratchet wants to see you soon. Both of us."

"Why?" Sam wonders, hesitating near the door.

Will shrugs. "He's been working on some project like crazy for the past day. Didn't say what it was about, though."

"At all?"

"No. 'Said it was going to take him a while, though. I'd say we have a month before he hunts us down."

Sam grins. "Sure," he says, and leaves the room.

Will's face falls into a mask of worry the instant he's gone. He walks over to the table and opens the file again, the one that alarmed him so much, a rereads the paragraph, just to make sure he got it right.

Charlotte Mearing may have been the one that lied, but he isn't being perfectly honest at the moment, either.

He closes the folder and leaves the room, planning to hide it in his office for as long as possible. _Let the kid enjoy it while it lasts. _He thinks sadly. _If it even lasts at all._

* * *

><p><strong>AN; it shows how long ive gone without this story when i was so excited to FINALLY get chapter four up, and then realized;**

**damn. there's already a chapter four.**

**Please reveiw!**


	6. PSA

psych.

It's not an update. IM SO SORRY DON'T HATE ME. But this IS a much needed public service announcement, and it's long overdue.

As you guys have probably noticed, I haven't updated this in a while. The truth is I've been suffering from a pretty hardcore burnout for the better part of three years. Part of that is because I cycle through fandoms like crazy…and the other part of it is encouragement.

To those of you who have reviewed- THANK YOU. Each and every one is appreciated, and I love you guys to the moon and back.

As for the rest of ya- quit your lurking and help me out here. I'm DESPERATE.

Reviews are really what motivate me to write. _Knowing_ that there is an interest in my writing- that kick starts my muse to infinity and beyond. While a ton of people have looked at this fic, a very small fraction of you is reviewing or PMing. I know- I'm something of a lurker, too, but that feedback is what makes me write. As it stands, I have far more reviews on another story for another fandom, and that is where my focus has been with a religious zeal because of it. Before I can update this story, I need to finish the tie-in fic called Revive (the first chapter is already up), but I haven't gotten much feedback on it, so my attempt at getting back into Transformers kind of plummeted. I'm so, so sorry to those of you who have left me a note asking for more. You guys are precious, and I love you.

To the rest of you- if you want me to update this fic, PLEASE leave me some reviews or PM or check out Revive or something. Tell me what you think, what you liked, what you didn't like, and everything in between. Even if it's just two words like 'loved this' or 'interesting chapter' or 'slagging cliffhanger.' Otherwise, I'm in very real danger of letting this one go- my heart's just not in it, not right now.

So.

…please review?


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